


Boss Me Around

by QuickSilverFox3



Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble Collection, Gen, Hangover, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Religious Guilt, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26791651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: It was a secret that no-one but Joe knew, but Nicky could feel the blood oozing down from the reopened wound in his side, refusing to heal.No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAYManhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint
Relationships: Andromache of Scythia & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova & Nile Freeman, Andy | Andromache & Booker | Sebastien & Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf & Nicky | Nicolò, Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Nicky | Nicolo di Genova & Quynh | Noriko
Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947016
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Boss Me Around

**Author's Note:**

> All tags don't apply to all drabbles, but please let me know if I've missed any ^^

“Kneel!”

The man’s face was blood red with rage, but his aim held true as the bat lashed out at Nile’s knees, shattering her swiftly healed kneecaps. She fell slack in her bonds, teeth slicing into her bottom lip as she swallowed back screams. 

It took a moment—a moment that was growing steadily longer each time—but she raised herself back up on unsteady legs, defiant to the end.

Nile spat out a mouthful of blood at the man, and grinned, lips curled and teeth bared.

“Kneel!” he screamed again, increasingly desperate in the face of her defiance, raising the bat.

* * *

Booker raised an eyebrow, a well practiced honed move that he  _ knew _ made him look like an arsehole, and took another drag from his cigarette.

“If you are going to shoot me, you better make it count.”

The man kept his hands steady even as he frowned at Booker, the gun never shifting away from his head.

“Because I will kill you.”

He was guilty of betrayal a thousand times over, and if mopping up the dregs from Merrick’s enterprise that the others missed, helped them, Booker would gladly die a thousand times for that penance.

“Well? Make your choice.”

* * *

Joe shifted on the floor of the van, feeling the metal bite into his cheek as he tried to sit up. His hands were numb, tied behind him, and all he could see where boots, ingrained with dirt and fresh mud.

“Stop moving.” The order was barked out, a voice that was used to being obeyed. Joe continued to move, muttering nonsense beneath his breath.

When the hands grabbed him, intent on moving him to finally make him stop, Joe went limp, biting back chuckles as one of the men yelped, hitting the ground at the sudden change in weight.

* * *

Quynh shifted, knees refusing to go numb and end her seemingly eternal torture. The cold bit into her skin, but Nicky seemed immune to it, head bowed as he continued to pray. His eyes shifted, following the priest’s movement as he paced, purple beneath them as dark as a bruise.

“We will find him,” she whispered, Nicky’s eye opening a sliver, bloodshot and unfocused.

“We have to find him,” he murmured back, and Quynh copied his posture, shifting on her own numbing knees, pressing her hands together and feeling the jut of her joints through her skin.

“Help us. Please.”

* * *

The gunshot rang loud in Nicky’s ears, burning his skin as it was pressed back against his temple. 

“You heard my demands!” 

It was a secret that no-one but Joe knew, but Nicky could feel the blood oozing down from the reopened wound in his side, refusing to heal. His time was up. He ignored his captor, staring at the man who held his heart, his heart breaking at the fear in Joe’s eyes.

“ _ I love you _ .” Nicky mouthed the words as he felt the man’s grip tighten on his shoulder and on the trigger. “ _ I love you so much.” _

* * *

“Put me down.”

“Nope.”

Joe’s grin only widened as Andy tried to swipe at him, missing as she retracted the movement to press her hand to her aching head.

“What’s happening?” If this was death, then Andy thought it would have been peaceful.

“It’s a hangover.” Nile sounded far too happy, and Andy growled at her, unable to fully form the words.

“Crap TV and lots of water is the cure,” she added, voice softer but no less maliciously gleeful as Joe carefully set Andy down on the sofa, sitting down next to her and pulling Nicky onto his lap.

* * *

“Two years,” Nicky groaned against Joe’s mouth, hands busy at his belt even as Joe tried to pull Nicky even closer.

“You are the moon when my night is dark, the sustenance I need when the day is empty.”

Nicky swallowed down the rest of Joe’s frantic praises with a kiss, nipping at his bottom lip.

Joe dropped to his knees in an instant, grabbing hold of Nicky’s arse reverently and mouthing at the line of his zip.

“I love you.” Nicky ran a hand through Joe’s curls, gently tugging as he went as he, finally, got his trousers open.

* * *

“Oh, that’s adorable.”

There were no outward expressions of confusion—helmets covering their faces—but the aura was palpable.

Andromache grinned, teeth bloody. “It’s adorable that you think that amount of guns is going to stop us.”

Joe grinned at the men, a bullet held between his teeth, shining silver in the light from their torches, and watched them flinch as he spat it out.

“We can even, nicely,” Andy nudged Joe with her shoulder, but never took her eyes off the men, “give you a heads start in running away.”

Nothing.

“Oh well,” Andy sighed, mock regretful, “Get ready to die.”

* * *

Booker could have fought. He could have broken bones as he was bundled into a van, but he could have done a great many things in his long life. So he didn’t.

His head ached and he longed to have another drink. Spending his time in a drunken haze was preferable to the alternative of experiencing reality. His original family was long dead, and in his grief and desperation, he betrayed his chosen family.

The van stopped, jolting Booker out of his half-daze, the bag was ripped off his head in the next second.

“Welcome back to the family, Booker.”

* * *

“What’s that?”

“A gun.”

“What’s a gun?”

Joe finally cracked, twisting on Nicky’s lap to bury his face in the crook of his neck, failing to stifle his giggles.

Andy scowled at him, and turned back to Quynh, staring up at her as if butter wouldn’t melt.

“This is penance for all the times I had to explain the Internet to her,” Booker murmured to Nile, lightly clinking their bottles together in a toast of solidarity.

“I could just demonstrate,” Andy replied flatly, loading the gun in quick motions and levelling it at Booker’s chest, who only shrugged, grin widening.


End file.
